Beautifully Unfinished
by girlfrom.0z
Summary: "I hope that you'll believe that I'm not the immature seventeen-year-old boy that I once was, nor am I the man you met in the bookstore three years ago.. If you give me the chance, I'd like to reintroduce myself." Rory Gilmore hasn't been whole in a long time. Not in three years. Not since the last time she saw him. This is her path to re-finding herself and the love she once lost.
1. Chapter 1

**Monday.**

If you happened to ask her what woke her up so early on that Monday morning, she would be inclined to tell you that it was the sound of the heavy rain hitting the roof above her.

If you happened to ask her what woke her, she would never admit that it was the gnawing in her stomach that signalled the day which woke her. She'd go to her grave with that knowledge tucked safely away in the furthest corners of her brain, never admitted to anybody – not even her mother.

No, it wasn't the guilt.

Of _course_ not.

It was the rain.

Rory Gilmore turned her head to look at the bed beside her, filled with another person. A man. A man that she'd loved. She had loved him, hadn't she? At some point? At least in the slightest?

 _No_. Her brain's answer was short and bitter. _Of course you never loved him. He's just a replacement. A temporary distraction._

She never wanted to hurt anybody, least of all Jason. He wasn't a bad man, he was even a great friend of hers at one point.

But one drink had led to another, one kiss had turned into more, and somehow, overnight, their friendship turned into something more. At least on his part. She just agreed numbly and tried to keep a smile on her face, tried to keep her voice cheery.

She'd been numb for almost two years.

Since the last time she'd seen him at his book signing where she'd kissed him and then felt the fear creep into her, she'd been completely numb.

She'd lied and said that she was in love with someone, knowing it was the only way he'd let her go.

 _He had too much going on with his life_ , she'd reasoned with herself as she drove home to an empty apartment, the tears already flowing down her cheeks and making it near-impossible to see the road. _If I'd stayed and we'd worked things out, I would have just been a distraction he didn't need_.

She could lie to everybody else, but she couldn't lie to herself.

She hadn't left because she didn't want to be a distraction.

She'd run in the opposite direction because the kiss they'd shared had awakened the feeling of love that she'd spent years suffocating. She'd run in the opposite direction because, despite how much she loved him and he loved her, their track record was almost as bad as her addiction to him, and so she'd left before either of them could break each other's hearts.

How stupid she'd been.

With the knowledge that the day was going to go one of two ways, Rory rolled onto her side, turning away from the body sleeping soundly next to her and looked out of her bedroom window at the winter day.

 _Raining_ , she thought, _how ironic. If that doesn't symbolise today…_

Her thoughts trailed off as the strong arm of the man sleeping behind her wrapped around her waist and pulled her back into his chest, into the warmth of his body.

 _Even in his sleep he still loves me._

 _What a mess I've made_.

As delicately as she could she extracted herself out of his arms and got out of the bed, her bare feet silently sliding through her apartment as she left the room.

That's what she did best – run.

The coffee machine greeted her like an old friend as she flicked the switch and got her favourite mug out of the cupboard above her.

She rarely used this mug, but it seemed fitting for the day and she couldn't help but let a flicker of a smile light her features just for a moment as she traced the writing before it disappeared back into the shadows and the gnawing feeling returned.

 ** _THE SUBSECT BY JESS MARIANO  
CRITICS ARE CALLING HIM  
"THE NEW HEMINGWAY"_**

When she came across the mug, she'd been stalking the Truncheon website, dying for just a _photo_ of him to help her get through the grieving stage.

She bought three of the mugs – one for herself, one for Luke and one for Loralie who, despite her once-hatred for Jess, had begun to get along great with him and drank from it whenever he went home to visit them.

Through one of their weekly phone-calls, Loralie had mentioned that he'd "accidently" tried to smash it but she'd caught him before he completely knock it off the bench. Apparently the guys at the bookstore had done it without mentioning it to him and they'd sold so many to his fans that he couldn't stop the production of them.

He'd never been one for vanity, it's one of the things that she loved most about him.

The coffee machine steamed, signally that it was done and brought her out of her memory, just in time for the same pair of arms from ten minutes before to re-wrap themselves around her. "Good morning, baby."

Trying not to jump and let him know her mind was a million-miles-away, she put on a cheery voice that sounded fake, even to her ears. Like always, he either didn't notice or he pretended not to. Rory was starting to suspect the latter. "Morning!"

He pressed his lips against her head before he moved around her to grab a bottle of water out of the fridge and leant back against the bench.

Despite refusing to look at him, Rory could feel his eyes following her as she fixed herself a coffee and made her way over to the small table that held her laptop and a number of different books and journals, all screaming at her to be read so she could process her article for the paper.

There was no way she was getting any writing done that day.

"So … you said you were going to see your mum for the next few days?"

His voice told her he knew that she wasn't going to see her mother; they both knew that she wouldn't leave halfway through the week to go back to Stars Hollow, she only did that on the weekends.

But, despite both of them knowing that she was lying, she turned her eyes up and took a sip of her coffee, buying time and steadying her voice. She'd never been a good liar. "Yes, I should be back by Sunday."

He nodded once, his eyes turning cold in front of her. He thought there was someone else.

He was right.

"Okay. I guess I'll have a shower and then get out of your hair so you can pack."

She knew he was hoping for her to ask him to stay until she left, but she couldn't bring herself to. She hadn't wanted him there in the first place, he'd turned up unannounced and she'd let him in without a word.

As horrible as it sounds, the only reason she hadn't shut the door in his face the night before was because of the Chinese food he held in his arms.

When she didn't ask him to stay, he nodded once more before he put the bottle on the bench and made his way into the bathroom, the door slamming a little harder than it usually did behind him.

Rory took a moment to watch the closed door before she opened the lid of her laptop and typed in her password, her eyes flicking over the email that she'd read over one hundred times.

* * *

 _Dear Rory,_

 _I know that we haven't spoken in a long time; in too long of a time. Not since the night of the book signing, a night that I think we would both rather forget than rehash._

 _And please, I hope you understand that, if I'd had the ability, I would have written you a long time before this, it's just taken me this long to unclear the writer's block and figure out exactly what I needed to say._

 _It's taken me this long to write, because I needed a wake-up-call that I got recently. So, I hope you don't mind that I'm writing you now, or that I got your email address off your blog. I know it's meant to be used only for enquiries about work, but I couldn't think of another way to contact you apart from asking Luke for your number, and I didn't want him to know that I've contacted you. At least, not yet._

 _Lately I have grown up an incredible amount. I know that you're rolling your eyes, but please believe that even_ _ **I**_ _know how ridiculous and cliché that sounds. It doesn't make it any less true, and I hope that you'll believe that I'm not the immature seventeen-year-old boy that I once was, nor am I the man you met in the bookstore three years ago._

 _If you give me the chance, I'd like to reintroduce myself._

 _I don't have a clue where in New York you are, or what you're up to apart from the things I read on your blog-page. It's great, by the way, you should be really proud of yourself – and I thank you for your great review of my book, even if it was over-the-top enthusiastic and too in my corner; you shouldn't write bias reviews, people will buy my book and hate you for recommending it._

 _So, despite following your blog like Alex Forrest, I can't seem to pinpoint your location and can't "accidently" run into you at a coffee shop somewhere down the street from your house, despite all of the times I've dreamt of such a scenario._

 _Last time I was home – who ever thought I would be referring to Stars Hollow as home? Taylor would have a heart attack if he even had the thought – your mother mentioned that you're seeing someone, and I wish that I could say I only wish you well and have happy thoughts about that, but I can't. Because one thing I always promised was that I'd be completely truthful with you._

 _And the truth, no matter how brutal, is that I am not happy._

 _I'm not happy that you've met someone, or that you've decided to start seeing him._

 _I'm not happy that you came to the book signing because you left too soon and didn't give us a chance._

 _I'm not happy that you left the blonde douchebag and decided to go to someone else rather than coming home to my arms._

 _The point of this email, Rory-Lee Gilmore, is to say this-_

 _My life has changed so much in recent months, I've realised that if you don't appreciate things while you have them they slip right through your fingertips and you don't get another chance to appreciate them._

 _If you don't tell someone how you feel while you have the chance, horrible things can happen._

 _I don't want something horrible to happen to either of us without knowing how we feel. Without knowing if we could have ever worked out. Without knowing that, if we gave us a chance, we maybe could have made this work._

 _So here's the truth:_

 _I cannot come to your house and surprise you with flowers or Thai food. I cannot bring you a bag of coffee or put pen-to-paper and write this letter down for you like you deserve. All I can do is send you an email and tell you that I miss you._

 _I've never gotten over you._

 _I am still in love with you._

 _I don't mean to cause disruption in your life, or cause you pain, I never did, despite my constant ability to cause it._

 _All I want to do is to see you._

 _To hold you._

 _To kiss you._

 _Even if you decide it's for the last time._

 _If you turn up, I'll know that you want to try._

 _If you don't, I'll know your answer and leave you alone._

 _I swear._

 _Love always,_

 _Your Jess._

* * *

Listed below was an address to a small coffee shop she'd spent the last week Googling on repeat. It was only twenty minutes from her apartment.

She couldn't help but wonder if that meant he lived within such a small proximity to her.

She couldn't help but hope.

When Jason came out of the bathroom she didn't notice, not when he got dressed, not until he was standing right behind her and he coughed to signal his arrival.

She snapped the laptop shut, a movement that would have made even the most innocent person look guilty and felt the blush rise to her cheeks.

"I'm going now," he muttered, bending down and kissing her hair.

 _I have to do this now._

"Jason, wait-"

His retreating form stopped and he turned around, his eyes holding such a look of defeat it only made the guilt chip deeper at her. "You don't have to say anything, Loralie. I know that we're over. I've known it since the first day we started. I know that you never wanted this. I know you only agreed so I could take your mind off of him, but I loved you so much that I didn't care … Don't feel guilty, I'm as much to blame as you are. You may have used me as a distraction, but I let you."

She stood speechless, waiting for him to continue.

"I've always known you loved someone else, I just didn't know who. When we first got together I knew you were running, I wondered from who, but I've learnt that it's not _who_ , it's from _what_. You're running from your feelings for this guy, and neither of you deserve that. If you have a chance at happiness - at _real_ happiness - than why would you run?" he shrugged his shoulders, a small smirk appearing on his face. "For the record, if he's the one, you deserve it. Don't run just because it's scary."

Without another word he was out of the apartment, pulling the door shut behind him.

And that's when she realised that somehow, in the past weeks, all of his things had disappeared out of her apartment and suddenly the guilt that was crushing her was lifted off her shoulders.

Twenty minutes to shower and do her makeup and she was out the front door.

On her way to greet her past.

On her way to see the love she'd left behind.

On her way to start a new life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Monday PT.2**

 **JESS-**

If you walked into Jenn's, you'd see the normal bunch of customers for twelve o'clock on a Wednesday.

In the corner, there was a bunch of school kids, goofing around and sharing coffee and muffins for their long break from school.

At the counter, there was a line of between three and four people, all patiently waiting for their orders to be placed.

There was an air of cool all throughout the café, just like it had been known for.

The room was decorated in a warm, soft yellow, the furniture all old, beautifully stained wood that would keep Luke's interest for hours. In the background, a playlist of indie-folk music played, a little too mellow for Jess' taste, but there was something so peaceful about all of the factors mixed in together that had sucked him in.

He'd fallen in love with a coffee shop, and he could explain why with one word: Rory.

Everything about the place reminded him of her, from the window that held a long bench you could sit at to people watch, to the sunflower walls that he knew she would love. The music held a strong air of her presence, and he knew half of the bands would play songs that she listened to almost every day.

Usually, he mixed into the cool, calm and collected category, fading into the background and not stepping out in the slightest, his usual seat one of the bar stools at the window. Today was not one of those days.

Seated at his usual table, in his usual seat, with his normal order of tea sitting between his hands on the old wood in front of him, Jess Mariano could be described by a lot of words, none of them resembling, "calm", "cool" or "collected".

Despite his new-found tea addiction border-lining on par with Rory's love for coffee, since he'd gotten his order he'd managed to swallow a total of two mouthfuls and he knew that the liquid was beginning to turn cold; he'd been nursing it for well over twenty minutes.

He hunched further into the red leather bar stool and bit his lip, frowning down at the table in front of him. The Rory he'd known – the Rory he loved – was known for her unusual punctuality, so he'd thought it best to arrive thirty minutes before he'd told her to come, just in case.

It had turned out to be a terrible mistake.

Because, even though when he'd arrived he _knew_ there was no way she would be _that_ early, no matter how nervous she was, Jess had been staring at the door ever since he arrived with one question rolling through his mind on repeat.

 _Will she come_?

In his email he'd made it as clear as a crystal.

If she came, it meant that she was willing to give them a chance and see where they went. If she didn't show up, it meant that she didn't want him to contact her again and he would do his best to fulfil her request and leave her alone.

It meant she was probably in love with the new douchebag she was seeing and she didn't want Jess to be a part in her life at all.

And he would try to stay away, he really would.

Although, he already admitted to himself, he would start visiting Stars Hollow more often, just in case she happened to be there one of the days he visited.

All he wanted to do was be able to look at her.

God he missed looking at her in person, not through a computer screen.

 _Wow,_ he snapped sarcastically to himself, _you're not pathetic in the slightest._

When the doorbell rang to signal another customer that wasn't her, he couldn't help but narrow his eyes at the young couple that walked in, hand-in-hand, the girl giggling pathetically at something the boy next to her had said.

 _It probably wasn't even that funny._

 _You're just showing off._

He admitted to himself that he was starting to go crazy and he frowned at the mug he was holding. He couldn't afford to go crazy; at least, not yet.

Because, despite what the guys had put on the coffee mugs and sold online without his consent, he was nowhere close to being like Hemingway. He wasn't even close to being accomplished enough, and that meant that he wasn't allowed to go crazy. Not yet. He didn't have a right.

 _Just thinking that probably makes you crazy_.

"Jess, hun." At the soothing voice, his eyes turned up and his lips pulled into a small, shy smile. He couldn't help it, he felt like she'd caught his thoughts drifting out of his brain. "Stop worrying. If she knows what's good for her than she'll turn up – who wouldn't if you were waiting?"

Even though her words were meant to encourage and sooth, all they did was make him more nervous. Because he couldn't handle the thought that maybe she _wouldn't_ turn up.

What if she didn't want to see him again?

"Stop. She's going to be here; don't doubt her." Jenn's voice had taken on the tone of authority that only ever came out when she was chastising him and he had to bite his lip from rolling his eyes at her. He knew she'd find a newspaper and hit him again if he did that.

Jenn had never asked for a son, she muttered all the time that she didn't have time for family, but she sure treated Jess like her own kin and had from the moment she met him. For the first time in his life, he didn't mind having a motherly figure around all that much.

Maybe it was because her café and her spirit somehow reminded him of the good times in Stars Hollow – a feeling he couldn't even begin to explain why he missed –, or maybe it was just the tough-love, all the while kindness she'd shown him from the second he'd stumbled through the door.

He couldn't tell you why he loved her.

All he knew was he did, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd had someone to take care of him the way that she did.

He'd found the café going on four months before their scheduled meeting, in some of his darkest times, by pure accident. He'd stumbled out of his apartment for the first time in over two weeks because he'd run out of his carton of cigarettes and the liquor cupboard was slowly emptying despite how full it had been less than half of a month before.

He'd been so drunk that he'd accidentally turned the wrong way, gone left instead of right, and had managed to turn down the wrong street.

Even though it was only three streets from his apartment, he'd never been on the street before, and when he walked past, he ended up stopping outside on the pavement and watched the people through the window.

Admittedly, he was looking for _her_ , just like he did through every window of every coffee shop he passed, believing that the universe would somehow manage to bring them back together, and what better place than a coffee shop?

It had been nearly an hour of her frowning at him with a concerned look on her face before he thought _fuck it_ and barged through the door, the aroma of coffee washing through his sense.

He almost wanted to cry.

Up until that point, he'd had a hard time walking into a coffee shop. He hadn't been in one for over three years, apart from Luke's where there was so many other smells it practically drowned out the coffee smell.

The smell hit too close to home.

It reminded him too much of _her_.

He'd spent too much time trying to forget her existence so he could survive.

"Wow, who drank a liquor store?!"

He turned around ready to snap at the woman who'd spoken to _fuck off_ – again, not his brightest days – before he took in the older woman with the kind, smiling eyes and noted the joking tone in her voice, his words catching themselves on the tip of his tongue.

She was the same one who'd been checking on him through the window for the past hour and suddenly he didn't want to be rude, he wanted to hug her. He knew she was the mother he'd never gotten instantly.

She'd patted him on the back, nodded to the table which became his regular over the following months, and then brought him a herbal tea which helped him get sober in record time.

Since that day, he'd been back every morning and almost every afternoon, and the pair had found a strange bond that tied them together.

No matter how much she joked about it, he refused to call her _mama_ , and she refused to let him pay for any of the cups of tea he managed to consume.

He shook his head to clear the memory fog away from his head and his eyes skimmed from her to the door and back again involuntarily. "The problem is, I don't think either of us has ever really known what's good for us when the other person is involved."

With a sympathetic look that she'd perfected over the course of getting him sober, she bent down and kissed his head before she picked her coffee pot off the bench in front of him and turned to finish the rest of the coffee-cup rounds.

When the door sounded to announce another soul's arrival, he didn't have to look up to know that she'd decided to come.

Just like always, there was a pull in the energy around him – it had been the same when they were younger, and it was just as strong as ever in that moment in the café.

Slowly, he lifted his eyes from the wooden table underneath his mug and suddenly found the brightest pools of blue he'd ever seen.

And in that moment his nervousness and fear completely disappeared.

She was there.


End file.
